A Golden Thread
by Paige242
Summary: After an attack on the Institute, Clary makes a difficult choice. Sixteen years later, history begins to repeat itself. (Clace, FutureFic)


_A/N- I just watched this show over the break and felt like writing a little story. It won't be very long, and I must admit that I am a new fan who has not read the books. Hope it is still enjoyable!_

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"Clary, you have to go. Now!"

She could see the fear and desperation in his eyes and hear the sounds of the battle raging just beyond her door. And yet, as she looked at the man she would always love, her body screamed at her to stay. She didn't want to leave him, even if that meant facing death.

Going down together seemed preferable to trying to forge a life alone.

Sensing that she was about to protest, Jace placed a hand on her swelling stomach. A jolt instantly ran through her body as she looked down, remembering that her duty was now greater than it had ever been. It wasn't just about them anymore. Their child had to come first.

Tears began to well in her eyes as she tried to accept what she had to do.

"Please." He pushed, looking back towards the door briefly as yet another scream echoed through the flimsy piece of wood. It was all that was keeping them shielded from Lilith and her soldiers and they both knew it was only a matter of time before the demoness reached them.

She had risen again, more powerful then before, and she had made no secret that Clary and her unborn child were the target of her attack. A baby with unforeseeable amounts of pure angel blood was a threat that Lilith wanted to contain. In their last confrontation, from which they had barely escaped, the creature had declared that she wanted to neutralize the child with her demonic blood and keep it as her own. A replacement for her beloved vanquished Johnathan.

They could not let that happen, no matter the cost. Clary refused to let her child face the same horrible fate as her twisted brother.

And if that meant running and hiding, then so be it. No matter how much she didn't want to.

"Not without you." The woman choked, clinging desperately to Jace's hand. "You can come with us."

"I can't." He replied, his voice laced with pain. "I'm the only one who stands a chance against her. I need to kill her, and I need to keep killing her if she ever dares to rise again."

"And then you'll find us?"

She knew that he wanted to say yes. More than anything. But Jace Herondale was nothing if not a realist.

"No one knows what the future might hold but, right now, you need to go Clary. Find a safe place. Keep the baby safe."

There was another loud explosion and the room around them shook. She knew their time was short and she leaned forward to capture his lips with a desperate kiss. The tears were steaming now but she didn't care. She could only hope that this kiss would not be their last.

"I love you, Clary. I love both of you. Now, go."

She wished that she could protest, but panic overtook her as she saw a crack begin to form on the door. There were only seconds left before Lilith would reach her goal. Heart pounding, she summoned a portal.

Clary turned to him—he was poised and ready, golden eyes flashing with power, a true angelic warrior to the end.

"I love you too. Always."

For a brief moment, their eyes met. Then, hell itself finally burst forth into the room.

Her instincts made her want to rush back towards his side but, before she could, Jace pushed her back with a surge of golden light from his palm.

The last thing she heard as she fell backwards into the open portal was the sound of his anguished scream.

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 _ **Sixteen Years Later…**_

"Mom, I was up super late finishing my art homework, I don't want to work the shift. Please don't make me go."

Clary Fairchild-Herondale—who had gone by the alias Clary Dale since her escape from the New York Institute— placed her hands on her hips and she attempted to stare down her teenage son. That parental act had become harder over the past couple of years as the boy had sprouted up, surpassing her height by quite a few inches. Still, the former Shadowhunter could be intimidating when she wanted to be.

She had faced down countless demons and downworlders back in the day. A pouting teenager was nothing in comparison.

"Jack, you made a promise to Mae." She pointed out, standing firm. "You were the one who wanted a job and you agreed to help her out every Saturday." The woman paused, raising an eyebrow. "It's important to follow through on a commitment. Even if that means missing Ella's band at the Rex."

The boy scowled, realizing that she had seen right through his 'too tired from homework' excuse. He muttered something inaudible before roughly standing up from his spot at the small dining room table.

"Fine." He replied, making no effort to hide his annoyance. "I wish I'd never agreed to this. I can't believe Mae actually makes money selling all of that fake magical garbage to tourists. Working there makes me feel like such a fraud. It's embarrassing."

Clary frowned for a moment, contemplating her response. To Jack, the shop did indeed seem like a silly hoax that capitalized on gullible tourists and magical wannabes. And, to be fair, most places in Salem were notorious for doing exactly that.

What Jack didn't know, and couldn't know, was that Mae's shop was the real deal. Their close family friend was an actual warlock—an old acquaintance of Dot's who had taken her in when she had first stumbled through the portal into the small, but notorious, town.

At the time, Clary wasn't exactly sure why she had chosen Salem as a place to hide but it had proven to be a wise decision. Perhaps she had heard some of the old legends from Magnus back in the day and had unconsciously known that it was her best bet for safety. Not surprisingly, Salem was a warlock stronghold and centuries of protection spells made it almost impenetrable to unwelcomed demons.

Mae had taken her in during those first critical months and held her hand as Jack had been brought into the world. Within a year, Clary had been able to make it on her own but she had remained close to the warlock and would be forever grateful for what the woman had done.

They had been safe here for sixteen years now, and Jack had been able to lead a normal life, free of the burdens of his complicated heritage.

And, more importantly, free from Lilith's attacks.

"You were the one who wanted to earn some spending money, Jack, and Mae has been nothing but kind to us over the years. I will not have you disrespect her. Or bail on your commitments."

Jack let out another annoyed huff, crossing his arms across his chest as he pursed his lips.

The sun that filtered through the kitchen window seemed to illuminate his golden hair and Clary could not suppress a slight lump in her throat as she surveyed the boy who looked more and more like his father with each passing day. Even at this usually awkward age, he was strikingly handsome—with blonde locks, full lips and a strong build that reminded her so much of Jace. There was no doubt that he possessed that same indescribable angelic quality as her husband.

Some days, it was hard to look at this walking, talking reminder of the man she had lost but Clary was unbelievably grateful that their son was happy and healthy. Away from the tragedy of Shadowhunter life.

Years ago, when she had first found out that her own mother had hidden the truth from her, Clary never could have imagined doing the same thing. As a teenager, it had seemed so unspeakably horrible to keep these secrets. To deny her knowledge of such a huge part of herself.

But that had changed the moment she had held her newborn son in her arms. Clary had finally understood her mother's choices and she had sworn that she would do anything to keep the boy safe. He was everything to her, and there was no doubt that his safety would be compromised if he knew about their past.

If he began to train—began to exercise his unique power—Lilith would be able to find him.

The lies and deception that had once seemed unimaginable to her had become a far better option than death.

"Fine." Jack muttered, breaking her away from her thoughts. "At least I can put the extra cash in my tattoo fund."

Clary knew he was trying to get a rise out of her and she did her best not to take the bait. This had become a heated topic in their house in recent months—Jack was determined to get a tattoo and she had responded with a firm no. He, of course, had called her out for being a massive hypocrite and pointed out that she herself was covered in (what he believed to be) ink.

Thankfully, he wouldn't be able to get one without her permission until he was eighteen, but he liked to goad her by taking about how he was saving up for that day. And, she supposed, she wouldn't be able to stop him then. At least whatever he got at a mundane shop would not hold the power she had worked so hard to shield him from. Still, she hated the thought of it. There was no way he could understand the significance that his unmarked skin held to her. For Clary, it was a symbol of freedom and safety.

It meant that she had successfully protected him from his fate.

Perhaps he would come to his senses over the next two years. In any event, now was not the time to start a heated discussion.

"We'll talk about it later." Clary said, trying to sound as nonchalant about the topic as possible. "Now, go get ready for work. You can't go dressed like that."

She gestured towards the black ensemble he was currently wearing. His usual outfit since he had started high school. Trendy jeans and a tight-fitting t-shirt, capped off with his favourite leather jacket.

He had nearly given her a heart attack the first time he had walked in the door with that jacket on. She was certain that Jace had once owned the exact same one.

The teen looked like he was about to retort but his mother caught him off-guard by taking a quick step forward and pulling him into a tight hug. For all of their arguments, they were still extremely close, and she could sense that his fiery spark was faltering as she held him close.

"The shift is only until nine." She pointed out as she drew back and placed a tender hand on his cheek. "You can still make it to the second half of Ella's show. Just be home by eleven, okay?"

Letting out a sigh, the boy nodded. "Okay. I guess that's fine." He conceded, a slight smile finally making its way onto his face.

"No, go. And be safe."

"Love you, mom."

Clary smiled. "I love you too, sweetheart."

More than he would ever know…

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The shift had passed relatively quickly and before Jack knew it, it was eight thirty.

After locking up the shop he quickly set about the final tasks of the night, counting up the till and tidying the shelves. Mae had left a little while ago. She had been feeling a bit unwell and trusted him to close for the night without help. He'd spent the entire summer working there and, despite his earlier protests, there was no doubt that he was a hard worker.

Once Jackson Dale set his mind to something he always saw it through. Even if he didn't particularly want to.

Thankfully, the afternoon hadn't been too bad. Sure, there had been a few busloads of giggling tourists, some of whom were dressed in ridiculously tacky witches' hats, but they hadn't caused much trouble or asked for his advice on so-called potion ingredients.

As he had told his mother earlier that day, Jack found the whole concept of the shop a little bit silly. Sure, Mae was like an aunt to him and he didn't want to insult her—but as far as he was concerned, everything she sold was utter nonsense. He'd always had a sarcastic streak, and it was hard for him to play along when wide-eyed customers asked him how to brew a potion or cast a spell. He had no interest in that sort of thing and, like most actual residents of Salem, he wasn't too patient with people who were. But, in fairness, tourism was what kept the town alive and he understood why people capitalized on the whole witch-trial thing. He did his best to grin and bear it but, as someone who had no belief in anything supernatural, that could be hard at times.

With a sigh, Jack glanced down at the garbage bin behind the counter. As keen as he was to get to his best friend's gig at the coffee house down the road, he didn't want to cut corners and he hastily pulled out the full bag and quickly tied a knot. After doing a final survey of the store, he decided that this would be his last task of the night. After throwing on his leather jacket and flicking off the lights, he took a few strides towards the back door of the shop and walked out into the quiet alley way.

Most of the bins were already filled to the brim and he paused for a moment as he looked around for the best place to leave the bag. Before he could find a suitable spot, however, the sound of an unexpected female voice caused him to turn around with a jolt.

"Hello, handsome. Can you help a girl out?"

Doing his best to calm his rapidly beating heart, Jack looked towards the new arrival. She was about ten feet away from him and at first glance she seemed normal. Although she was probably a few years older than him, she was undeniably beautiful and he returned her small smile.

His mother always told him to be a gentleman, and to never get too cocky—but Jack knew he was considered good-looking, and this was not the first time a girl had made a somewhat forceful move.

"I was in your little shop earlier, and you seem like the sort of guy I've been looking for. I need your help."

Jack could not remember seeing her before but things had been fairly busy for a while, and it was entirely possible that she had been inside earlier. It seemed a bit odd that she would hang around the area and approach him like this, but perhaps she really was in need of help.

"Oh, okay." He stuttered, less gallantly than he had hoped. He told himself that there was no need to worry but as she drew closer, he could not shake the nagging feeling at the back of his mind. "What do you need?"

She smiled again, mere inches from him now, and if he didn't know better he would have sworn that he saw her eyes briefly flicker to pure black.

The girl leaned towards him, her lips almost brushing against his ears.

"Angel blood." She whispered, her voice suddenly taking on a more gravely quality.

Instantly, Jack jumped back—clearly, the girl was insane. Perhaps she was a tourist who took the witchcraft thing way too seriously and he now had no doubt that she was unhinged. But before he could make his escape, she reached out for his wrist with lightening speed, her sharp nails painfully piercing his skin.

"What the hell?" He cried, trying, unsuccessfully, to pull back.

"Hell is my territory, not yours, Shadowhunter." His attacker hissed.

His body filled with icy fear. The girl made no sense and she was clearly dangerous. The grasp she had on him was amazingly firm and he watched, helpless, as his blood began to drip down onto the dark pavement.

He knew he had to get out. Now.

Jack's throat had gone dry and, before he could force a scream, a third figure suddenly appeared in the alley and grabbed the girl, finally getting her off of Jack and throwing her against the wall with a surge of superhuman strength.

"Holy shit." Jack gasped, looking at the man who had come to his rescue. "How did you do that?"

The older muscular blonde surveyed the teen, a hint of surprise on his face as well. "You can see me?" He asked, drawing a deep breath.

Jack was about to reply that of course he could see him but the sound of an angry growl from across the alley distracted them both. For a moment, he thought the mysterious man had killed his attacker but the girl (creature?) now rolled back onto her feet and faced them both. Much to Jack's shock, however, her beautiful face had now split into four fanged pieces and she hissed at them with the most monstrous mouth he had ever seen.

"Here, hold onto this, just in case." The man said, passing Jack a strangely shaped sword that, somehow, seemed to glow in his hand. The older man was holding one too, far more confidently, and the teen watched as he sprung back into action with a flip that seemed to defy the laws of physics.

The man swung the glowing sword, crippling the creature with a few quick jabs before throwing it back against the wall with another unimaginable show of strength. This time, he didn't let it simply lie there and he dashed towards it, vanquishing the thing with a final stab to the chest.

It went up in flames, letting out one last, horrible scream.

Although he felt like a helpless fool, all Jack could do was lean against the cool brick wall behind him. He had no idea what had just happened. The girl had looked normal—but then she had tried to kill him. Not before uttering strange things about angels and hell that made absolutely no sense.

And then there was the man. There was clearly something strange about him too. Jack was grateful for his help, of course, but people weren't supposed to be that strong or agile. And what was with the glowing sword?

Was he some sort of superpowered vigilante?

Suddenly remembering what the man had passed him, he looked down at the weapon that continued to glow in his own hand. He had never seen anything like it before and, in his shock, he let it clamour down onto the ground with a loud clang. Instantly, the light went out.

"Are you okay?" The man asked, his golden eyes laced with concern as he approached.

Jack had no idea what to think. He wanted to run (what if this guy turned out to be dangerous too?) but he was in far too much shock. And his wrist, where the creature had grabbed him, was throbbing with pain.

"Crap, she got you." The man noted, surveying Jack's wrist for a moment. "Do you have a healing rune? You need to get the venom out quickly."

"A…what?"

None of this made any sense.

He wanted to get out of here. He wanted to get somewhere safe.

But, before Jack could take his first step, darkness closed in.

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"Come on kid, you've got to wake up. Fight it."

Jack let out a slow moan as his vision began to clear. For a moment, he had no idea where he was but as he turned his head to the side he could see that he was (somehow) on the floor of Mae's shop. There was some sort of makeshift pillow under his head and, as he turned his head the other way, he came face to face with an unfamiliar figure.

It was the blonde man from the alleyway. He was leaning against the counter, running a hand through his hair worriedly. He must have carried Jack in here after he had passed out.

As strange as it was to wake up to the sight of this mysterious man, the teen somehow felt less panicked than he had before. There was no doubt that the man was concerned about him. His expression was enough to tell him that. And there was something oddly familiar about him too.

Jack could not put his finger on it but, here, in the safety of the shop, he no longer feared the man before him.

"What…what happened?" Jack muttered as she slowly pushed himself into a sitting position. His head was pounding, and there was a strange burning sensation on one side of his neck, but his wrist no longer seemed to hurt at all.

He looked down, his eyes widening as he saw that his earlier injury was now completely healed. The gaping wound left by the creature was gone.

"That's not possible." He gasped, looking up towards the man with wide eyes. "Did you do that?"

The man, who seemed quite relieved to see him sitting up and talking, gave him a warm smile. "No, you did it." He answered, seemingly amused by the boy's confusion. "Though I suppose I did help a bit."

There was a pause as Jack continued to examine the miraculously healed injury.

"You really don't know, do you?" The man asked, his gaze fixed on the teen in front of him. He seemed as fascinated by Jack as Jack was by him and the boy slowly shook his head in confusion.

"About monsters and superheroes who kill them?" He asked, sticking to the best explanation he could come up with, no matter how crazy it sounded. "No, I don't know much about that. Was that…did all of that really just happen?"

Much to his surprise, the man let out a low chuckle. "Yes, it did. But I'm not a superhero. And that wasn't just a monster. It was a demon."

Jack let out a choke of surprise. "A…demon?" He stuttered in disbelief. A sudden memory came flooding back. "Wait…it said it was looking for angel blood. Are you an angel!?"

It felt absurd to even ask the question but Jack could not stop himself. As silly as it all seemed, he could not deny what he had seen—and he had to admit that there was something a bit otherworldly about the man in front of him. The blonde hair and chiseled features. The blue and golden eyes. He certainly looked like a Sunday school depiction of an angel, minus the wings.

The man smiled. "Only half." He replied before pausing. "In all my years, I never thought I'd have to explain all of this again." He commented, more to himself then to Jack. "Being raised as a mundane is so rare..."

The man trailed off, tilting his head to the side as he looked at the boy once more. As he moved his neck, Jack could not help but notice intricate black lines on his skin, peeking up above his shirt collar.

He had seen lines exactly like that before.

"Why do you have the same tattoos as my mom?" Jack asked, his eyes locked on his new discovery.

A jolt seemed to run through the man's body and, before Jack knew it, he had placed a firm hand on his shoulder. His otherworldly eyes boring into his own.

"What's your name?" The man asked, his voice containing an unexpected quiver.

The teen hesitated for a moment before replying. He had no idea why the room had suddenly filled with such tension. But the man had saved his life—even if he was a bit crazy, and believed in angels and demons, he owed him that much.

"Jack. Jackson Dale." He replied slowly, trying not to balk under the man's intensity.

"Dale…" His saviour muttered, drawing a sharp breath. "And your mother, what's her name?"

"Clary Dale."

Silence fell and Jack tried to read the expression on the man's face. He looked shocked, that much was clear, and his hand instantly fell to his side as the words left his mouth.

The man repeated her name, his voice barely a whisper, before looking back towards the teen with a sudden redness in his eyes. The man had not struck him as easily shakable, not after that display in the alley, but clearly whatever Jack had said shook him more than confronting a razor-toothed demon.

"Jack…" He choked, his gaze even more transfixed than it had been before. "I can't…you're…you're alive. She made it." Before Jack could question him, the man placed a shaking hand on his cheek. "Look at you." He muttered. "I felt something, but I should have seen it. I should have known. It's like looking at an old photograph."

"What are you talking about?"

But before the man could continue there was a blinding flash followed by an earth shaking boom. Jack and the man instantly jumped to their feet—whatever it was seemed to be close by and after what had happened in the alley, Jack was on high alert.

"Shit. More may have found you. We need to go." The man said as he quickly pulled a small stick out of his pocket and waved it in the air in front of him. For a second, the gesture looked completely ludicrous but Jack watched in awe as graceful lines of sparkling golden light began to appear. Once the design was seemingly complete, the man pushed his hand against it, creating a large swirling circle before them.

"I know this is a lot, Jack," the man said, suddenly grabbing his hand. "But I need you to think about your home. Picture it as clearly as you can. We need to go."

Jack had no idea why, but he didn't pull away. There was something that made him trust this mysterious figure and following him seemed better than sticking around to see what had made such a horrible sound.

"Okay." He whispered.

He closed his eyes, picturing the small home he and his mother had always shared, and allowed himself to be pulled forward into the unknown.

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Before tonight, Jack had never passed out in his life. In fact, he'd never even seen someone pass out and, to him, it had always seemed like the sort of thing that only happened to dramatic Victorians in historical movies.

But that night, he lost consciousness for the second time. At some point between fleeing the shop and twisting through some sort of magical portal, the world had faded to black once more. The last thing he remembered was feeling as if his body was being churned through the world's most violent amusement park ride. He had no idea how long he had been out this time but when he reopened his eyes he was relieved to find himself lying on a very familiar couch.

As unbelievable as it was, he had made it home. And for a moment he wondered if everything that just happened had been a dream. Maybe he had fallen asleep in the living room before his shift and imagined it all. That would certainly make more sense.

But it didn't take long for the sound of voices in the next room to quash that comforting theory. He heard his mother first, which was a relief, but that was followed by the sound of the man he had encountered earlier that evening.

If he was here too, then it must have been real.

"Honestly Jace. His neck! Of all places." He heard his mom mutter, annoyance in her voice. There was the sound of heavy footsteps and, through the crack in the door, Jack could see the two figures move closer together.

"I had no choice, Clary." The man—Jace— replied. "Whatever that demon was had powerful venom. He passed out in less than two minutes and you know the neck is the most effective spot for a healing rune. Even before I knew who he was, I couldn't let him die. Do you really want to fight about this after sixteen years apart?"

There was a pause.

"I know. You're right." Even from a distance, Jack could see her reach up to give the man a kiss and a jolt of surprised energy instantly ran through the teen's body and he quickly sat up on the couch, still listening.

"I'm just in shock, Jace. I can't believe you survived that attack. And that you found us. If I'd known I would have…"

"No." The man cut in, pulling her close once more. "As painful as it was, you did the right thing. If you'd tried to make contact with the institute—with any Showdowhunter—then Lilith's people would have found him sooner. This was how it had to be. We both knew that."

Jack saw his mother nod. "I know. But all of that time we missed. And now they've found us anyway. He can't escape his fate, just like the rest of us." She let out a bitter scoff. "I really started to believe that he could."

The boy's mind raced. None of this made any sense. How did his mother know the mystery man, and what were they talking about? He assumed they were referring to him, but he had no idea what they meant by 'his fate'—whatever it was didn't sound good. And it was about time that he got some answers.

Jack let out an intentionally loud cough and was no surprised when, seconds later, his mother and the new arrival burst through the kitchen door.

"Jack!" His mother exclaimed, instantly rushing to his side and pulling him into a firm hug. "Oh sweetheart, I'm so glad you're okay."

Jack did his best to muster a smile, but he could not hide his preoccupation with the second figure. The man had approached him too and, much to the boy's surprise, took a seat on the other side of the couch. There was still the look of awe on his face that he had seen in the shop earlier and in the bright lights of the living room Jack set about examining him once more.

Yes, there was definitely something familiar about him, the boy concluded. Too familiar. Even though he was quite sure he had never seen the man before in his life. The interaction in the kitchen seemed to indicate that his mother did, though.

She had kissed him.

Kissed the man who shared the same blonde hair and strange golden flecked eyes that he saw every time he looked in the mirror.

Heart pounding, Jack turned back towards his mother.

"My father isn't dead, is he?" He whispered, trying not to let the levity of the situation overwhelm him.

The look in her eyes confirmed his suspicions. "I thought he was." She replied, clasping her hand over his. "But he's not. He's…" Clary looked towards the stranger, her tears threatening to overflow. "He's here, Jack. He finally found us."

Jack believed her words, but that did not lessen the shock of this revelation. His father was alive and sitting right in front of him. That was enough to overwhelm almost anyone. But, beyond even that, the man had appeared in a dark alley, rescuing him from a demon with feats of strength that should not have been possible.

He'd said he was part angel, and whisked them away in a shower of gold…

Unable to control his impulses, Jack jumped to his feet and backed up towards the wall, facing both of his parents. Never, in his wildest dreams, had he expected to be in a situation like this.

"This can't be happening." He muttered, looking back and forth between the two in disbelief.

"What is he, mom? He did things. He had a glowing sword, and a wand thingy. He killed this…fanged thing and then completely healed the place where she scratched me." He held up his wrist, an attempt to prove he was not losing his mind as badly as he thought he was. "And he must be crazy, because then he said he was part angel. Which is absolutely insane, right?"

She simply starred at him, nervously biting her lip.

"Right?" He pressed again, desperate for his mother to make sense of it all.

He might have had a striking resemblance to this man, and perhaps he really was his long-lost father, but that didn't mean the guy wasn't clinically insane.

"Your father is a lot of things, but he's not crazy." Clary finally answered, a sympathetic smile on her face. "Jack, I know how hard it is to hear all of this. I went through the exact same thing when I was just a bit older than you. My mother tried to hide all of this from me too—at the time, I was confused and angry. But now I know it was only to keep me safe. When it came time to make a difficult decision, I knew I had to do the same. Very dangerous people wanted to hurt you and trying to live a normal life masked by magical wards was the only way to make sure you grew up safely. I'm so sorry that it had to be this way. But I hope you'll come to understand in time."

Jack pushed his body against the wall more firmly, leaning on it for a sense of grounding as his reality seemed to slip away.

"So…you're not denying anything that he said?" Jack pressed, his eyes wider than he thought possible. "There's no way. It doesn't make sense! My father can't be some sort of superpowered angel warrior. There must be a mistake!"

Unable to look at either of them anymore, Jack whipped his head around towards the long mirror that hung over the mantle. He wasn't sure why he had the sudden urge to look at his own reflection—perhaps he wanted to re-examine his similarities to the new arrival in an attempt to deny the connection that seemed so clear.

But what he saw only caused the pit in his stomach to grow.

Not only did he see an undeniable resemblance to the man who had so quickly turned his world upside-down but he also caught sight of a rather large marking on the left side of his neck. It was composed of thick black lines exactly like the tattoos that adorned his mother—and, apparently, his so-called father.

He reached up, brushing his fingers across it frantically in a fruitless attempt to make the mysterious symbol disappear.

Sure, he may have wanted to get a tattoo—but not against his will, and not like this.

"What the hell did you do to me?" He asked, turning around to face the other blonde figure. "You can't just go around tattooing people's necks!"

His parents exchanged a look before the man replied. "It's not a tattoo, Jack." He said, a little too calmly for the boy's current mood. "It's a healing rune. Drawing that there was the only way to save you from the demon venom. And now you can use it whenever you're injured."

"Me? Use it?" He gaped, still in disbelief. They seemed to be implying that he could do the same sort of weird things his so-called father could, but that was impossible. He had never done anything remotely magical and he had never wanted to.

This was all too much.

"I may look like you or whatever." He began, doing his best to stare down the man who remained seated before him. "But I'm not like you. I'm normal. And I still think all of this is insane. So do me a favour and just go back to wherever you came from. We were doing just fine without you. I don't need a father."

He could see the hurt on the man's face but Jack was too overwhelmed to care. He was determined to get away and he turned to make his way through the kitchen and towards his room. Before he could take more than a couple of steps, though, he found himself frozen on the spot, as if pulled back by a magical force. Despite his struggle, he felt himself being turned around against his will, and he expected to see the man doing something unbelievably strange with that wand thing he had seen earlier.

But it wasn't the man, he quickly learned.

It was his mother. Her arm outstretched, one of her markings glowing with a golden light.

"You're not going anywhere, Jackson Stephen Herondale." She said, her face set with determination. "We need to talk."

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End file.
